Company
by button.by.button
Summary: Amu's parents are out for the evening, taking Ami to the holiday festivities, and announce they won't be back until later that day, which leaves Amu in the house. Alone. And just like that, his timing impeccable, Ikuto arrives at her back window.
1. Chapter 1

1. Amu's Guest

Sshk…sshk…sshk. A pause. And then – sshk…sshk…shk…!

The sound – a continuous wet scratching that seemed persistent and angry – bounced along the deserted halls in an endless melody, filling the Hinamori house that lay empty and devoid of human existence with momentary life. The entire Hinamori family was currently absent of their pleasant shelter, having abandoned it to preoccupy themselves with the excitement of the annual festival that arrived every spring in town.

Everyone was gone - save the young girl who lay hunched over the kitchen sink, her body curled inward so that she represented a fuming pink ball that appeared ready to explode at any given second.

With an exasperated sigh, Amu knotted her eyebrows together and bent her head further into her task, grinding the sponge against the porcelain plate as she worked to scrub away the grime caked on the rim. The 'sshk'ing sound had been steadily increasing as time passed, reflecting Amu's blackened mood. "Mama really shouldn't let Ami mix her food anymore," she mumbled between pursed lips, increasing her efforts against the demonic stain. "Look what she's _done_!" She waved a hand wildly in the air as if to show the destruction to someone, and then Amu thrust her abused sponge which was on the brink of tatters into the pool of soapy water, slapping it back unmercifully to the filth.

This..._abomination_, which had appeared to glue itself permanently to the porcelain surface, had been formulated by Ami's hands during last night's dinner, and as the memory began to surface Amu felt the vein in her forehead throb impatiently.

They'd had Mama's homemade curry last night and were in the midst of enjoying the delectable family favorite – trading smiles, light conversation, Papa's occasional inspiring speeches that had included a headlight and overwhelming bravado which had caused everyone at the table to listen in fascination expect Amu, who had merely sat poking her food in disinterest – when Ami, grown bored with herself, had scrambled on top of the table and suddenly plunged her hands into the food. In a chortle of delighted laughter she had mashed up the remaining pieces, swirled it around, and then with confidence that would have fooled even the most skilled detectives, declared the design on her plate to be a butterfly.

Dropping their forks, Amu and her parents had leaned over the table and examined Ami's work with great interest, eyes wide. Shockingly, Amu had not known whether to look at her sister in disbelief or applaud her for her efforts because in a way –crooked antennae, lopsided body, a horrendous collection of color – the abused plate of curry _had_ resemble the winged insect. Her jaw dropping, Amu managed only to cock her head and stare, too flabbergasted beyond words to speak.

Her parents on the other hand had taken a completely different reaction. Delighted by the sudden arrival of their very own Picasso, Papa and Mama had shoved away from the table in unison, Papa dashing away to find his camera, and upon return, begun taking countless pictures that had left the house radiating with flashes. Ami, absorbing the attention like a sponge, had proceeded to pose with her art in hand, reenacting the latest poses made by Utau, winking, smiling, and jumping with the utmost enthusiasm.

After that, encouraged by her parents' support, Ami had then run wildly about the house and begun to add to the butterfly, proclaiming it had shifted into an elephant. The next second a flower. She had carried out her duty with such liveliness and ardor it was as if this had been her soul purpose in life all along. It was not to dance and to sing, but to collect and paste! Grab the piece of string hanging off the couch and stick it on the ceramic; collect the crumbling pieces of dirt from Papa's shoe and throw it on; find one of Onee-chan's hair clips beneath the coffee table (Amu protesting wildly at this point) and add it to her creation! This! This is what Ami had been born for! And she'd taken it with great pride, whisking from one corner of the house to the other -collecting, adding, pasting.

It was a continual, never ending cycle that by the time Ami _had_ finished, her creation had warped into something so twisted and gnarled – half of the items leaving Amu baffled as to where Ami retrieved them – that it had transformed into something completely beyond human comprehension. Aghast, Amu had thought no human would have _ever_ find love in their heart to accept this…this thing!

But their parents had only beamed with pride at their youngest daughter's accomplishment, their enthusiasm seeming to blossom tenfold with every new creation that was set proudly before their eyes. Amu, unable to keep with her parents' overbearing level of enthusiasm, had soon retreated to her room to finish the homework she'd been assigned earlier.

And while Amu had sat chewing the end of her pencil during her studies, her parent's infatuation with Ami's artwork soon settled to simply Ami herself, turning a blind eye on the plate and focusing all their attention on their daughter, who, distracted by her parents' enthusiasm, had set aside her work and begun to recite the new song she'd been practicing, all thoughts of her previous artful endeavor forgotten.

In that expanse of time, Ami's artwork had been allowed to dry, corrode and piece together during the long onset of night…

Which was now the nightmarish mess Amu was currently scrubbing off.

Her brow furrowed, amber eyes glistening brightly in the light. Amu was growing impatient with the stain that had already eaten up 15 minutes of her life and she almost wondered if it had grown arms and legs during Ami's excavation, sinking its little nubs deep into the ceramic. "Ami...!" she growled, grinding the name between her teeth. She grunted, small sounds of struggle escaping her as Amu suddenly forced her entire weight onto the plate. A fractional budge went beneath her fingers and then suddenly the entire mess gave away, exhausted from the torrent of bubbles and soap that had barraged its surface.

Amu blinked, momentarily overcome with disbelief at her accomplishment, then chuckling triumphantly she dumped the debris into a trashcan, dusting her hands off. For a moment Amu allowed her mind to drift to Ami, wondering what her sister might have accomplished by now at the festival. Maybe she'd won a goldfish. Her eyes slipped to the plate that had caused her so much fuss and sighed sadly.

Poor goldfish.

Only imagining what her little sister's hands could devastate to the animal, she finished rinsing the remaining debris with considerable ease, scratching her nails against the surface to pick off the pieces that still clung stubbornly to the edge and then placed it in the rack to dry. Amu was in the midst of reaching for another when something shifted in her peripheral vision.

It was too close to discern what kind it was, but Amu was aware it was a dish because 1) she heard it dripping with water, the suds popping faint and wet in her ear and 2) from what Amu could discern, there was enough delicate gold tracings and flower petals scattered across the surface that she recognized it to be one of Mama's fine china dishes.

Amu suddenly frowned, the gears of her brain slowly starting to move. The gentle gold lines and floating leaves along the face of the plate didn't match the pale blue, plastic cup that she held in her hands. It had a tiny lion character printed on the side, its tail curved into the handle – another of Ami's dishware (which thankfully lacked any back breaking demands of labor).

But why was it so near? And why wasn't it in her hands?

As this bit of information sunk in her amber eyes widened in sudden panic, overcome by an idea that sent a cold chill down her spine.

Was this dish, by some super natural talent, floating beside her because it was aided by someone…on the _otherside_? Had some long lost ancestor been unable to fulfill a goal during his life time and returned from the Afterlife to bear a family curse? An unresisting grudge that would follow her till her death bed? Aided by her wild imagination – that appeared to be blowing the situation completely out of proportion – Amu felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end as her eyes slid to the side and strained heavily on the dish that was hovering unsteadily beside her.

If this was punishment for taking a picture of Tadase while he had been asleep during a meeting than she prayed to all eternity for forgiveness! But then again, he'd looked so innocent, softer and more adorable than ever. In such a vulnerable state – how could she resist? And…And it had only been one little picture…

Wait! What was she thinking? She had to get rid of this curse now!

But just as Amu bent her head in repentance, the dish drifted closer, suddenly revealing the polished nails and slim fingers that were keeping it suspended in the air.

"Will you wash dishes like this when we're living together?" a voice asked to the side, and there was a trace of amusement in his question as Ikuto waved the plate slightly before her. "And will you greet me and kiss me after I return from a long day of work?"

A startled gasp escaped her and Amu reared back, nearly throwing her hands into the air as she spotted the boy who was two inches from her. "Ikuto!" she chocked, and like always she began to fret energetically, sputtering exclamations that were too fast and too indiscernible to be understood.

Amu's reactions were usually weak and childish, making her seem like a complete fool most of the time, but as she jumped away, startled at his unexpected appearance, the following response made her look even more ridiculous as her hands, waving at an ungodly speed, smacked the water suddenly.

There was a split second where Ikuto spotted Amu – now on a role in her excited fervor – and then she was gone, taken by a wave of dish soap and water her flailing had sent up.

The kitchen fell into abrupt silence.

A hushed silence.

An eerie silence.

Ikuto, having slipped smoothly to a safe corner of the kitchen seconds before impact, hoped his entertained smile wasn't as bright as he felt. He was perfectly dry, and he placed a hand to his lips to pull in some means of restraint as he watched Amu, who had stilled into an odd silence.

It was the calm before the storm, he realized, and before he could think of anything else Amu's head shot up, both fists clenched to herself in childish outrage. A fleeting trace of what appeared as pure steam seemed to burst from her figure but Ikuto thought it only his imagination.

"Look what you did! Look at the mess you caused –"

"You did that," he interjected softly with a smile.

" – in the kitchen! And now I'm dripping wet. It's getting all over the floor." Unable to help herself, Amu waved her hands in disgust before her as if trying to rid her fingers of something sticky, missing the dark look that suddenly entered his eyes.

"Oh, Amu," Ikuto said, and she was suddenly aware of the slight pleasure that coated his tone. "I never thought to hear you speak like that. And so young…"

Amu paused in her fussing long enough to narrow her eyes at him, her face brindling with with both puzzlement and suspicion. She didn't know which to be upset at more - the fact that she had absolutely **no** idea what his words entailed or the way he'd pursed his lips at the end of his sentence, as if he'd just enjoyed something quite satisfying.

"What are you talking about?" she demanded, the heat in her tone nearly causing her teeth to snap.

Ikuto sighed lightly and then smiled. It was during times like these where Ikuto truly appreciated the delicacies of a naive sixth grader. He glided forward with unmatched grace, placing his footing carefully along the dry parts of the wet tiles lest he get wet socks. "Do you want me to dry you?" he asked casually, leaning in and taking up a dripping hand, which she snatched back immediately.

Her voice was clipped as she responded, dismissing his last comment with a wave of her hand. "No, I just need a towel."

"I can be your towel, all you have to do is come here and – "

All it took was one dangerous slit of gold to be turned on him and Ikuto's arms dropped to his side, though a trace of a smile remained as he watched her retreat from the room. As she disappeared, Amu cursed his ability to make her feel like she did now - was it humiliation that burned her face into an undesired embarrassment? His words? Him...?

Her socks squelched along the floor, interrupting her thoughts, and her fingers bit into the wood as she heard his laughter follow her up the stairway.

If she could wreck this much havoc around Ikuto in just a manner of five minutes, she feared what else she could accomplish. The festival her family was at could take hours, which left Amu ultimately by herself.

Alone…and with Ikuto.

This was going to be a long day.


	2. Chapter 2

2. Caught Peeking

Amu returned downstairs with a small smile, refreshed and dressed anew. Garbed in an outfit that wasn't dripping and smelling of dishwater and stale meat, Amu felt herself well enough to tolerate Ikuto's company, prepared to fend off any tricks hidden up those sly sleeves of his. But as she fastened the delicate, soft gray choker about her throat she wasn't prepared for the sight that greeted her below. Her steps slowed to a complete halt as she arrived just inside the kitchen, her smile disappearing.

He showed no signs of noticing her entrance, and for once in his life Ikuto's keen ears missed the sound of her socks sliding against the wooden panels. He was on the other side of the kitchen, standing before one of the dark cherry cabinets with the glass doors thrown wide open, his back to her. Amu began to question his motives –there was nothing interesting in there aside from her mother's collection of fine china– when he shifted slightly, and Amu saw him holding a saucer in one hand, which he was waving absently in the air. He appeared to be searching for the correct shelf, fingers running delicately over the porcelain dishes, cobalt orbs scanning intently along the panels. The room was quiet enough that she could hear the light 'plink, plink' his inquiry sent up, as his hands continued to dance over the ware.

Somewhere in the back of her sub-conscious, as she continued to watch, Amu recognized the saucer to be one of the few she had cleaned earlier. Something clicked, and, after a moment, Amu tore her eyes from the scene she was engrossed in and glanced briefly at the drying station near the sink. It was empty, the dishes she had washed and dried earlier gone. She returned her attention back to the boy, eyebrows raised, as she came to conclusions of what had become of her earlier chore - the last of it was in Ikuto's hands, ready to be returned back to its formal position in a brief matter moments.

Ikuto…was doing chores.

In that instant, it felt like her world was turned completely upside down. From her own deductive reasoning, Amu knew –was _confident_ –that this sentence should never of existed, let alone become actuality! What was this! Blasphemy! Ludicrous!

Had the entire nation of Japan finally fallen into conspiracy and acknowledged the end of the world, Ikuto's willingness to put dishes away marking the start of the apocalypse? Was this…Armageddon?

Ikuto, completely and utterly oblivious to the imagination running wild in Amu's head, continued to probe the wooden ledges with his eyes. Finally he raised his arm, spotting the correct shelf, and placed the bowl on the upper levels of the cabinet along with the other ceramics that gleamed in the soft sunlight. It was slightly crowded, and he tapped the bowl's surface just enough till it stayed evenly on the platform without threatening to fall. Gently, very gently, he accomplished this.

As Ikuto continued to tap, Amu, without discretion (and abruptly forgetting her previous idea of the world coming to an end), felt her eyes slid down the length of his back, attracted to how his body moved in response to the simple movement. Haltingly, she noted the sleek black vest and the white T-shirt that he'd dressed himself in this morning. The clothes were comfortable and loose, but clung close enough that as he stretched, it allowed one to view the muscles play beneath the material - which Amu was taking full advantage of.

From this vantage point, it was clear that Ikuto took careful measures when it came to his body, in possession of a figure that was naturally slim and fitting, and - Amu had to admit - extremely appealing. Amu watched the muscles in his forearm shift, triggering his shoulder and lower back to move. The entire action was fluid and surprisingly sensual, and Amu felt her heart start as she continued further observation of Ikuto's form. Though his frame was slight and could be easily mistaken for as a girl's, the tone of muscles ranging in his arms and lower back saved him from this common misconception. His body worked together in perfect symphony, each movement sinuous as his clothing pressed and shifted against his body, emphasizing a shoulder one second, outlining a bicep the next. Ikuto had the uncanny ability to make the most awkward movement graceful, natural, and the simplest of tasks captivating to the audience.

Ikuto was currently doing a fine job of displaying this talent.

Why did she find this feat so fascinating? Why was it appreciative to her eye? Why was it – ?

"You're drooling."

Almost instantly, Amu swiped a hasty hand to her bottom lip, fearing the statement true. Then her eyes widened with horror as she recognized the amused voice, and she refocused her eyes to find Ikuto swiveling on his heel to face her, his smile matching the mood.

Oh, yes. He was _highly_ entertained at the moment.

"There are other activities to engage in that involve me other than to stare," he said, an expression of dark delight starting on his face.

_Caught! _

Amu chocked back a gasp, which in her efforts sounded like a pitiful 'eep!', and fought in those critical seconds to keep the wave of panic from her face. She crossed her arms defensively over one another, stumbling back a step and tried to exude as much confidence as possible. The possibility of this was as close as to Nadeshiko being a boy. Pfft! As if! Amu knew darn well Nadeshiko was 100% female. "I - I wasn't looking!"

"Liar." The answer, so blunt and cold, was an arrow through Amu's heart, shattering her shields. It sent her into a flurry of panic that involved her normal arm flailing and unmatched spluttering. She danced around the room, a 5'0, pink whirlwind of unstoppable hysteria.

Ikuto watched for a moment, eyes following the darting sixth grader, then sighed, cocking his head to the side and glancing off into the other room. He considered letting her continue this ridiculousness while he went over into the family room and flipped on the television, but what fun would there be in that? He was sure he'd benefit more if he remained here, and, accepting his choice, Ikuto lifted one hand from where he'd crossed them over his chest earlier and placed it to the side of his mouth. "I don't understand why you still try to deny the obvious," Ikuto called over her fuss.

Amu didn't hear him, immersed in her wave of panic. She was bolting about the area so quickly and violently that he noticed she was leaving skid marks every time she pivoted and reeled in the opposite direction.

He heaved a sigh of exasperation softly over his shoulder, then leaned away from the counter tops, dropping his arms and flexing his fingers. He came up to Amu, at a distance where he wouldn't be trampled to death, and then with expert timing, snatched her mid-step. Anticipating her reaction, which usually involved a lot of punching and kicking, Ikuto squeezed her close to him.

She didn't struggle, and the unexpected reaction left him holding her limp form in his arms with a rather dumbfound expression. Her face was turned away, forcing Ikuto to lean over and turn her cheek to him, who was mildly curious at the lack in pushing him away. The minute he caught sight of her expression he knew why.

Amu had burned absolutely every vessel of energy during her outrageous fervor, to the point of passing out. She was heaving great gulping gasps of air in a ridiculous manner, as if she were just now realizing oxygen was a bare essential to living, and her body was in a state of momentary sporadic twitching.

The situation was entirely comical on Ikuto's part as he held the disheveled and nearly incapacitated Amu in his arms. He bent his face beside hers, arms tightening slightly. "Why are you the most exciting person to ever enter my life, Amu?" he questioned softly in her ear. For a reason he could not explain, the second it left his lips Ikuto wanted an answer to this question that had seemed to nag the back of his mind ever since their first encounter. Odd that such a tiny girl could be the catalyst of his worries.

He waited patiently for her to revive, and as Amu opened her eyes, consciousness registering on her face, he almost believed she would answer, her lips starting to form a word. But then she absorbed the situation she was in and any sign of answering immediately disappeared as she scrambled from his grip and backed away on hands and knees.

Disregarding his initial curiosity, Ikuto assumed his original mischievous character, scoffing at her reaction and the shaking finger she was pointing at him now.

"You were trying to take advantage of me, pervert!" she accused, her cheeks alight with blush.

"Was not," he countered, a playful light in his eyes. "I just needed to wake you so we could finish the rest of the dishes." Ikuto stuck his tongue out and pointed behind his shoulder, which Amu's eyes reluctantly followed.

The monstrous pile of dishes that met her gaze made her forget any trace of Ikuto, Amu's jaw dropping wide open. How could she have missed that collection of dishware!

Distracted by the new found task, Amu missed Ikuto as he retrieved himself from the floor and strolled over to her with a bemused smile. He swept a hand down to her, the black studded bracelet about his wrist swinging gently from the motion.

"Shall we get started?"


	3. Chapter 3

3. A Compromise of Sorts

"Amu."

"No."

Ikuto was in a pinch.

"Amu, look - "

"No."

A very tiring and rather ridiculous pinch that involved an equally tiring and ridiculous elementary student who was standing directly behind him.

"We're never going to get anywhere - "

" - stay at the sink!"

" - if you keep acting as stubborn as you are now!"

Ikuto heaved a great sigh, swiveled back to the dishes he had started previous to this dispute, (this pointless...stupid...), hovered a hand over the sponge, and then turned back to Amu, his blue eyes drawn with fatigue. "You're acting more absurd than usual," Ikuto sighed. Leaning against the ceramic counters and forgetting the dishes Ikuto began to mentally count the reasons off his fingers that were steepled before his face, his tone sounding as if he were trying to reason with a child. "There was no harm. I wasn't taking advantage of you, as you so rudely claim..."

Amu stabbed a finger excitedly at him, cutting Ikuto short. "You tried to kiss me, perverted cat!"

The teenager visibly withdrew, his blue eyes growing dark in disapproval. Name calling was completely unnecessary. "You were unconscious. How can you claim that?"

As Amu fired back an excuse Ikuto studied the girl, a look of boredom and fatigue carving his handsome features as he tried to come to terms on how this pointless banter had initially started. "Ah," he said memorably to himself after a moments pause and remembered - and almost instantly his face drew into absolute exasperation.

He didn't know how it was possible for someone to regain consciousness, stand before a person who had thrown her into a complete burn out, _remember_ that the said person was the cause of her previous unconsciousness, and then freak out fifteen minutes later, completely forgetting about the _un_touched and **_un_**-taken-advantage-of moments that had transpired between them earlier. Why, they had even been on the brink of starting a nice conversation when Amu's smile had suddenly disappeared and darkened into what looked a lot like suspicion. And after taking a firm belief that Ikuto had intended to take advantage of her she had stalked to the other side of the kitchen and remained resolute with arms crossed, leaving Ikuto to finish the dishes.

Why did she have to take matters out of proportion?

Ikuto sighed once more, rubbing tired fingers to his brow. It was as if Amu's reaction time was days behind. But then again her hair was pink - anything was possible with this girl.

Tired of this pointless banter Ikuto decided to counter.

In an almost effortless manner Ikuto instantly lost any trace of his previous ire and cloaked himself in his normal attire that was full of wit and sarcasm.

"Amu," he repeated firmly and locked eyes with the heated girl, "why are you standing there?"

Her hair prickled automatically. "Because I don't trust you."

"If you don't trust me, why did you allow me inside your house in the first place?"

Amu started, his question registering a look of surprise on her face but even as she began to reply Ikuto cut in sharply. "Why do you allow me by these dishes? Why I'm still inside your house? Shouldn't I have been kicked out before?"

"But I - "

He forestalled her further, this time advancing toward her."Do you realize how vulnerable you are, knowing that you are alone in a secluded building with a _male_," he put noticeable emphasis on the word 'male', "teenager?" Ikuto hopped closer to her, backing Amu up against a wall and barricading any possible escape with both arms locked firmly on either side of her slight figure. "Do you know how impulsive teenagers can be now-a-days?" His voice had slipped into a whisper and he leaned in so his breath fanned gently against her skin, which to his pleasure had deepened into a soft rose.

"Would you like to see how I act when I have this kind of opportunity?" he inquired quietly, his voice now low and suggestive. With just the tips of his nails Ikuto dragged both hands along Amu's arms, tracing upward to her elbows and sliding over her shoulders, increasing the pressure as he went. His fingernails crawled up the soft length of her neck - he could see the pulse hammering wildly beneath her skin -and he would have cupped her face, but to his surprise - and subtle pleasure - he was left with nothing to caress but air.

"Amu," he said, immensely pleased with himself as he turned and saw the sixth grade girl whipping dishes in and out of the sink, her hands blurring into a wild fury. "Amu, don't you want to know?"

Her voice was barely audible over the sound of crashing dishes that continued to steam roll out from beneath her hands. Dirty. Clean. Instantly. "Just help me wash dishes!" she exclaimed, her voice sounding a little too excited for the simple house chore.

Problem solved.


	4. Chapter 4

4. An Imperfection in Both

For the first time in his life Ikuto Tsukiyomi sincerely questioned whether it was correct or even remotely possible for him to have any association with the term 'cat like reflexes'. The constant throb in his middle finger was a painful reminder of his blunderous error that had occurred just seconds ago, and he cursed the drop of clumsiness that had been instilled in his body at birth.

Where was the grace? The finesse that usually instigated every movement? Lost, and all because of one simple moment where he had been foolish enough to allow his hand to slip, literally, onto a stainless steel, carving knife, the last of the utensils to be washed.

So caught up within his self-reprimand he was unaware of the girl who had been standing before him and calling his name for the last ten minutes.

Amu paused at her attempts, pursing her lips in mild confusion. Like Ikuto, Amu was rather surprised by what had just happened.

Despite the initial vigor she had expressed at washing the dishes, when Ikuto had neared to aid her in finishing them, touching her shoulder gently to signal that he was near, Amu had stiffened and hissed and spat at him to step away. He was almost tempted to leave the kitchen at that point - the living room sofa was starting to look like a welcoming sight - but after reassuring her that he would try nothing suspicious, tracing an 'X' over his heart with a nimble finger, Amu had finally complied to wash dishes tangent with him. The monstrous pile which had initially appeared as a daunting and nearly impossible task had, to Amu's genuine astonishment, been completed in record time as the two had designed an effective two-person assembly line and flown through the dishes with little difficulty and, as Ikuto promised, no tricks.

But as Amu had been in the midst of reshelving the stack of porcelain bowls, she'd looked up in time to spot Ikuto, grown oddly silent, his hands still plunged within the kitchen sink.

There was an expression of disconnect as he had remained silent and unmoving, his eyes glazed with a strange haze as Amu watched. Then, unspeaking, Ikuto had slowly lifted his left hand and revealed a middle finger, freshly sliced and running bright with blood. Simply dropping the large, stainless steel knife he had held his hand over the sink and watched in morbid fascination the stream of blood course down his hand.

No cry of pain. No witty response requesting for help, and it was that which had stunned Amu so. It was as if he had fallen into a world that revolved solely around himself and the injury.

At first Amu had grown worried at the lack of response, but a minute or two later, her expression of shock and concern quickly reduced to exasperation.

He was overreacting. The mistake appeared to have knocked Ikuto off his pretty gold pedestal of confidence.

And the act had grown quickly tiresome. "Ikuto," she finally sighed, snatching a counter top table cloth and grabbing the wrist of his injured hand, "that's enough." She regretted using the cloth because it was laced prettily at the edges and dyed a soft yellow, and she knew it would take days to scrub out the stain, but she wrapped his finger within the small towel, staunching the wound. Immediately on contact it bled through, swiftly and heavily, and Amu swallowed back the wave of nausea as she folded the other half over.

"I can't believe how a shallow cut could reduce you into silence," she mumbled, trying to make little of it, but her own voice wavered and she was careful to avoid her eyes from the wound.

As a new type of pain began to arise from the pressure of her hands, a part of Ikuto resurfaced as well. "I'm not capable of accidents..." Ikuto mumbled sulkily.

Amu heaved a great sigh at the statement and started to shake her head when he unexpectedly yanked her hand close.

"H - Hey!" she cried, flustered that she had been caught off guard, but he ignored her. The pair of dark blue orbs contained endless curiosity as he gazed at what she assumed was his injury. She started to pull away, unnerved by the intensity in his eyes - besides, her hand didn't need to be in the way of his inspection and he could hold the make-shift bandage on his own! - but he stopped her by placing his other hand on hers, preventing her retreat.

"Though I find hands that are delicate and tiny to be an attractive quality, yours are extremely small - "

"- Hey!"

" - and surprisingly rough and calloused for your age." This time Ikuto allowed Amu's hand to slip from his grasp as she swiped it back, his other hand gently replacing itself on the maimed one.

"It's from hard work and helping around the house!" she defended heatedly, which was true. Constant scrubbing and brushing had led her to loose the soft hands of adolescence. "You must not know this because yours are all soft and girly!"

Ikuto took a step toward her, a small smile appearing when he noticed her stiffen at his approach. "But don't they feel nice against your skin?" he asked and ran the tips of his uninjured hand fleetingly across her cheek.

The touch was warm silk caressed against her cheek, and she almost felt herself lean into it, but Amu slapped his hand away the next second, trying to erase the sensation from her mind. "Stop that." Ashamed, Amu was suddenly aware of the roughness of her hands and she half consciously hid them behind her back. Compared to his, her hands were like rugged bricks, edged with large granite pieces and flaked with glass.

"Amu."

Engrossed within her own thoughts, the sting in her normally heated response was dampened to a vague and a simple reply of, "What?" She wondered whether her mother still had that special softening cream of hers.

"I need another towel."


	5. Chapter 5

5. Unreliable Help

Amu was afraid of heights, she wasn't afraid to admit it. In fact most kids her age were probably unnerved by the uncanny ledges, the edges unsteady and dizzying should one risk a peek over the side, nothing to catch them but open air if their foot slipped off the treacherous ridge. And if anyone ever made fun of her for it, she had a plausible excuse: all humans were instinctively programmed to hold an inexplicable fear of heights (according to her home room teacher during a day of lecture).

Unfortunately, the height Amu was standing at at the moment was laughable, as she balanced precipitously on the edge of her bathroom counter tops, a height that lifted her from the ground a whopping three feet. She wouldn't be here if...

"Ikuto, can you see the bandages from there?"

...it wasn't for _him_.

The seventeen year-old leaning against the opposite bathroom wall wasn't paying attention to her, too absorbed in his wound. "Hm?" He was currently distracted by a loose fringe hanging off the new towel Amu had found for him earlier. With the knuckles of his free hand he began to paw at it with some interest, leaving Amu to continue her helpless endeavor.

"What about here?" she asked, unaware in the lack of effort she was receiving from behind as her hand patted inside a new level of the cupboard.

The predicament Amu was in at the moment was that not only could she not find the bands aids, but also that she could hardly _see_ inside the cabinets. Her eyes barely penetrated the bottom.

"Ami..." she mumbled again, feeling as if she were back at the sink, working away at the devilish stain.

Despite the multiple arguments that she consistently engaged in with her sister and the number of miscellaneous items that Ami managed to continually swipe from her room in growing succession, Amu, did in fact, love her little sister. These minor occurrences were, in a brighter light, inconsequential when compared to how much Amu adored Ami's existence.

Ami's childlike outlook on life focused mainly on the exterior, barely scrapping the unfair actuality in human life. Because of her innocent naivety, Ami's constantly positive and unexpected outbursts tended to distract Amu from her latest troubles.

Even so it would have been nice if Ami hadn't ransacked the bathroom cabinets last month and wasted their entire box of band aids. In response to her mischievous behavior - which Mama and Papa had deemed 'cute' - her parents had ordered a new carpenter and requested the bathroom shelves to be moved to a height where Ami couldn't reach anything. It was still beyond Amu as to why her parents had had a part of the bathroom wall entirely refurbished when they could have just simply hidden the box from Ami's prying eyes. But then again half the ideas that ran through her parents head was way beyond her.

Amu sighed. Had she belonged to any other family in the entire nation of Japan she would not have engaged in such troublesome activity. In the end she blamed her short height for being in this meddlesome situation.

That, and Ikuto.

"Ikuto, here?" A pause, and then: "Are you even looking?"

"Yup."

Amu put her attempts at finding the package on momentary hold as she whipped her head around to look at him. No he wasn't. He was fooling around with a piece of string. Her eyes narrowed dangerously and were she to glare any harder, add a fraction more amount of malice in her golden slits, the string would have disappeared in a burst of flames.

As if predicting the string's death with a supernatural sense, Ikuto finally looked up, navy blues flooded with disinterest. "What?"

Amu's jaw nearly locked as she gnashed her teeth together. "**Ikuto!**"

"Fine, fine," he sighed loudly, complying to her request. "It's a good thing you hold my interest," he mumbled beneath his breath as Amu turned back to the cabinets.

"What?"

"I said go a shelf higher."

"Here?"

"No."

"Where? Here?"

"No. Go back down a shelf and stretch to your left while reaching backwards."

Amu blinked, pausing her hand midway. Had she heard him correctly? But before she could question his motives, Amu heard him still giving instructions behind her.

"Now close your eyes and tap your left foot while crab walking with the other and singing our national anthem backwards."

He said it so seriously that for a split second Amu attempted to do all four commands. Then she was whirling around on the counter tops wildly, about to demand Ikuto the meaning of this nonsense.

Ikuto shoved a familiar box right into her stomach just as she turned, having crept behind her in secrecy while deeming out the ridiculous commands, and plucking the sought after prize in the second shelf. "Here," he said as she doubled over from the force and leaned in dangerously close. From the counter tops she stood a head taller than him, but even so, it was still unnerving to feel his heated breath bearing softly against her face. Only the one hand that continued to hold the box to her stomach prevented their lips from closing the gap - and he seemed greatly aware of this.

He smiled darkly, and Amu almost believed he was going to drop his hand and let her topple into him as she felt his fingers twitch against her belly.

"You're heavy," he said instead.


	6. Chapter 6

6. Sibling Troubles

"_Ami_ was the one responsible for this?" Ikuto said, sounding somewhat impressed as he looked at the box of band aids. "I had no idea." He rolled it around in his hand, appearing to have gained a new found respect for reading the label. "She has her charms…"

Amu, who had just finished sharing Ami's story of the refurbished bathroom cabinets, settled beside Ikuto on the bathroom floor and started to twist open the bottle of disinfectant. The smell of hydrogen peroxide burned her nose as she popped the cap off, and for a moment Amu wondered if Ikuto's feline qualities heightened his sense of smell. She swished the liquid onto a cotton ball, the action comically overexaggerated, but Ikuto remained indifferent, simply unwinding the nearly ruined piece of cloth from his finger and folding it beside him in a neat square.

She pursed her lips, disappointed. But as she shrugged away the supersition, dropping her eyes to take up his hand, Ikuto wrinkled his nose slightly, dismayed by the subtle stinging that tickled his nose. Had he character changed, his ears would have flattened against his dark hair in agitation, tail waving from side to side as if to bat the smell away.

Amu began to dab around the cut gingerly, hesitant laughter escaping her as she tried to keep her hand steady. "Ami _has_ been able to achieve much," she admitted, as if sounding embarressed to confess her younger sister's accomplishments to Ikuto, "and most of the time I don't even have the slightest clue how she does it." _Like the time she super glued her pinkies together with Papa's carpenter glue_, Amu reminded herself, keeping the thoughts unsaid.

Good Lord – she had cried so hard that it had left Amu's head ringing for two days. During that time Amu had stuffed her ears so full of cotton that even Papa's world breaking decibals had sounded like a muted hum. Only after being suffocated by her mother's worry that she would develop an infection from the excessive pressure did Amu finally, begrudgingly, remove the make shift earmuffs. A forced shudder ran down her spine as Amu recalled the torture that had followed the next days. She _never_ wanted to revisit a situation like that again; Ami's high frequency wails had nearly ripped the skin from her ear drums.

Another shiver fled through her tiny body, and Amu shuffled closer to Ikuto, immersing herself back into clearing the wound.

Seeing her distraction, Ikuto lapsed into his own thoughts, half watching Amu's hands as they continued to move about the wound in a carefully mannered way. She'd nearly cleared away all of the dried blood etched into his skin and as she paused to prepare a fresh cotton ball, Ikuto stared at the impressive cut. Having already engaged in multiple tussels with Tadase in the past, Ikuto had suffered his fair share of cuts and bruises, sometimes underestimating that infernal little staff of his as he'd whacked it along his body during battle.

(Sometimes Ikuto wondered which was more damaging: his bejewled golden toy, or that ridiculous kingly laugh of his.)

But never before had Ikuto's body been assailed a damage like this one. With all the wild swiping and bursts of light he threw at him, Tadase had only managed surface level injuries, scarce bleeding at most. The one ranging along his index finger was of another matter. It stretched nearly from the tip of his nail all the way down to the middle of the joint, the skin flayed and laid open large enough that if he squinted, he could almost count the layers of fresh skin. Now that Amu had cleaned it, the effect was even more dramatic, and Ikuto almost felt his lips pull down in disgust, wondering how long the scar would last, when he noticed Amu looking down at it with the same intent expression.

It almost appeared as if she were thinking the same thing, dark amber orbs full of concerned questioning, her head bent close to his hand. He could feel her fingers trembling against his own. Fearing that she would pass out again, Ikuto leaned down and rested the side of his cheek lightly on top of her head, feeling her skin flush warmly beneath the mass of pink hair. "Amu," he whispered, his voice a low purposeful croon, "don't concentrate too hard. I can feel you breathing against my skin."

The intimacy of Ikuto's presence was enough for Amu to stop her mid-breath but his words were almost self-devasting as Amu, faster than a triggered bullet, shot her head up in embarrassment and nearly collided with the side of Ikuto's face. It was only due to his enhanced reflexes did Ikuto manage to pull back in time, her hair tickling him as it skimmed against the bridge of his nose. Any slower and the blow would have sent him reeling into unconsciousness.

Unscathed, he looked up to see her trembling again but - and a smug grin raced across his features - for another matter. "I was doing no such thing!" she insisted, her voice high and earnest as she tried to assume a somewhat composed face. With a glance his eyes darted to her hands and they clamped together automatically, a nervous reaction that gave her away. Ikuto, wanting to unsettle her further, gave a soft sigh and flicked his head to the side so his dark hair fell more appealingly along his face, eyes frammed beautifully by the movement.

A sound somewhere between a chock and a gasp escaped her, and Ikuto, pleased, pretended to examine her work, his injured hand cradled close to his face. "You were," he argued back lightly, "and quite _hot_ly." He exhaled the last word with more emphasis than necessary, restirring the blood in her cheeks. "It's only fair I return the favor..." he mused and with blue eyes that glowed brightly as they snapped to her, Ikuto stretched his body out and started to reach for Amu like a large predatory cat.

Instantly, Amu broke from her frozen stupor, the beckoning of his fingers setting heat to her eyes.

Unbeknownst to him she had been gradually practicing ways to counteract Ikuto's baits; as he shifted closer, her hand whipped out to seize his injured one, yanking it to her chest, and with the a cotton ball that was freshly doused in hydrogen peroxide she jabbed it straight into his wound. A hiss of dismay left him and all intentions to tease her were dropped instantly as Ikuto turned his head away, mouth twisting into a pained frown. "Ah...Ouch!" His reaction left her strangely satisfied, a grim smile of triumph appearing. In the future Amu would soon learn the perfect term to match this scenario: sadism.

"The point of treating a wound is trying _**not**_ to increase the patient's distress," Ikuto groaned and he twitched in apprehension when he saw her lift the cotton ball high over her head. "Of course 'the reward of suffering is experience'...!" Somewhere through the blinding pain, Ikuto dimly recalled pulling the quote from one of the rare times he'd attended class. It had been a quote from overseas, said by a figure head of the states who had helped quell the turmoil of the early 20th century...

Ikuto's personal history lesson was abruptly cut off as he watched Amu's hand reappear, something new clasped between her fingers, and he looked away, steeling himself for her next onslaught. But the only thing that touched his skin was something elastic and slightly adhesive; discomfort came in the form of light pressure and when Ikuto looked back at Amu, it was to find her placing a brightly decorated band aid, length wise, along the injury.

"There!" she smiled, turning to toss the strips of plastic into the trash can. "That should do it."

* * *

**A/N : **The person who Ikuto was quoting was Harry S. Truman, 33rd President of the United States. He officially owns the statement. I'm speechless if any of you were able to recognize the quote.


	7. Chapter 7

Before indulging in the seventh chapter of this series, I'd like to apologize to my readers for not thanking them earlier for all the reviews I've been given throughout this story. Feedback is one of the most encouraging gifts for a writer, and the support has really meant a lot. Gaining a follower, having it favorited, or being left a kind comment is what allows me to continue writing. So I'd like to thank you all for your kindness - it _does_ mean so much!

* * *

7. Feline Indecision

Wrapped in his own bubble of controversial thoughts, Ikuto, resting at the edge of Amu's bed with planted feet and tapping a single finger in endless succession along the coverlet, tipped his head to one side, and then the other, for once paying no mind to his favorite pinkette as she sat and fingered through a collection of various hair clips scattered on her desk. Though his face remained impassive of any emotion except the mild look of boredom that pushed his lips into a frown, Ikuto found himself teetering unsteadily with indecision and doubt. It felt as if his mind, wrought asunder beneath the barrage of thought, had split into two equal halves and engaged in an everlasting war that threatened to give away to a splitting migraine.

There were two things he wanted of Amu, both of which, to a certain degree, were easily obtainable depending on her cooperation. Neither required extraneous effort, and the two requests in comparison to his other acts appeared as close to harmless as it could get. But it was not Amu's willingness that weighed heavily on his mind, for that action was, quite literally, predestined. Ikuto only had to act for Amu to _react, _and her over-eccentric character, whether intentional or not, would guarantee a spark of excitement to whatever situation Ikuto put them in. The current problem in the matter – and the topic that had caused him an internal feud since they'd arrived in her room - was which one to_ choose_.

Reminded of his increasing failure by the steady ticking of Amu's desk clock, the infuriating sound driving more and more into his brain with every second, Ikuto began to fidget restlessly on the bed.

As he fell deeper into his personal deliberation, the troubled cat, at the very fray of consciousness, realized that he had been stroking a spot between the juncture of his neck and right shoulder for an immeasurable amount of time. Mildly surprised by his lack in attention Ikuto drew his focus from his puzzling thoughts and glanced at where his hand, just below his collarbone, lay. Without even understanding it himself, he resumed the action, his thumb and bandaged finger rolling together, over and over, onto nothing. The individual pandas printed along the surface of the band aid soon blurred together until they appeared as one tumbling, little bear that continued to turn in an unending happy circle.

But Ikuto wasn't aware of the illusion he'd created or of the fact that he rubbed only empty air between slender fingers. Instead, as he began to recognize the action, he pictured a string - a fine black strand attached to the lapel of his school uniform where, according to school protocol, should have dangled a tiny, silver cross. But in his mind there was no delicate figure decorating the empty string, for he'd somehow lost it after a badly miscalculated leap from a tree yesterday. Despite coming away unharmed, his collar had caught on the edge of one of the tree's many branches and snipped off the cross, and though he had spent hours searching for it through the tall, unkempt grass, cursing maintenance for their laziness, the silver adornment had remained out of sight, leaving Ikuto to eventually storm away in silent frustration.

Tearing himself from the memory that irrevocably stung his pride, Ikuto craned his head to the side and observed Amu silently, who was still distracted by her accessories, her small fingers poking and prodding in interest. He watched and waited...and then, as if by divine intervention or an apology made by Lady Luck, Ikuto felt his form go still. How could he have been so blind to the silver lining obviously put before him? Ah, it only increased the value to his other choice ten fold! He finally dropped his hand and touched it thoughtfully to his bottom lip, a fond action that, had Amu caught it, would have stilled, captivated by the suggestive look in the dark blue orbs. _Although__, _he thought, slipping his eyes over one shoulder and out toward the window where clear afternoon light spilled through, _Yoru isn't here yet_.

And Yoru was essential for carrying out Ikuto's second wish.

Ever so slowly Ikuto's eyes widened, and even though his face remained emotionless his mouth worked into the smallest of grins.

Without his chara present everything seemed to resolve in a second, and Ikuto, at last finding closure, fell back onto the bed, his arms flung out carelessly to either side. He allowed himself a precious moment to relish in the plushness of the mattress, his form sunken in slightly, and reaching out blindly above him, he dug his fingers into what was one of Amu's many pillows and drew it to his face. So recognizable to him Ikuto buried his nose into the buttoned seams of the cushion, inhaling Amu's familiar scent.

Surprisingly, as many times as he'd embraced her, Ikuto had never detected a trace of strawberry on Amu despite the striking resemblance the color of her hair bore. She smelled…just like a child would – free and rambunctious, naive and innocent. Fresh, like rain - a pleasant and secretively addicting scent that continually moved Ikuto to pull her close in the encirclement of his arms.

Comforted and now relaxed by her smell Ikuto lolled lazily onto his side and gazed at Amu who seemed oblivious of the current imprisonment of her favorite pillow. _But when to act_? he wondered listlessly, dark lashes pressing to the high curve of his cheeks as he blinked in wonderment. His earlier contemplation had been unexpectedly draining, and it left him in such a state of lethargy that he was tempted to close his eyes and doze (as a cat of any nature would).

But, he thought, tilting his head further on its side and ignoring the trace of dark blue strands that escaped into his eyes, this was Amu he was talking about. And Amu never failed to disappoint him.

In the end he left the final decision, involuntarily, up to Amu. Not that he was biased to either choice, but if one of her hair clips fell to the floor – hair clips that were pushed entirely to the center of her 20'X40' oak chiseled desk and lay in the protective circle of her arms – then he would willingly follow through with taking a short nap. But if she happened to cough, sneeze, wink, shuffle her feet, play at her hair or do any other bodily movement, then Ikuto would carry on with his initial plan.

...

Breathing. Breathing counted too – should her shoulders rise and fall, Ikuto would include it. Mentally, he tacked it under his second choice.

Rearranging himself more comfortably on the bed, Ikuto pulled his limbs up and close against him, curling into a tight ball. Only the lacy edges peeking out beneath his arms showed any signs he still clutched the pillow to him. Patiently, he waited.

It didn't take long. "Ikuto?"

His name sounded hesitant on her tongue as Amu turned and set her deep honey stare on him, the hair pins now all but forgotten. In the back of his mind Ikuto was beyond pleased to see all fifteen of them remained deep in the center of her desk, and he hid a smug grin behind the crook of his arms.

The pieces were set.

* * *

**A/N : **For those who are curious, I'm planning to add about four more chapters to this series, five at most. It would have been shorter but one of my readers inquired about the absent in charas - so thank **beautiful memories **for increasing the time spent between Amu and Ikuto!

One other thing: I'm pretty strict with myself when it comes to keeping characters true to their original personalities - if any of you think the Shugo Chara cast are not so Shugo Chara-y anymore, please let me know! :D


	8. Chapter 8

8. The Near Consequences of Miscommunication

With only the most sincere of intentions for his behalf (or maybe it was desperation?) Amu questioned at what point in his life had Ikuto established his self belief and personal morals? What _exactly_ dictated his subconscious to recognize right from wrong? More importantly had an accidental drop on the head during his adolescence somehow contributed to it? Well, whatever celestial figure promenaded through his soul and governed his actions currently, Amu _never_ hoped for its perverse mind to touch her own, for she would rather face the public, microphone in hand, and belt out her lungs to one of Yaya's ridiculous child ensembles than succumb to its devious intentions.

"Ikuto," Amu said once again, her eyebrow finally giving into the sporadic twitching it had been resisting for quite a time, "Can you repeat that just _once more_?" At the last two words she could almost _feel_ the pearly enamel scraped from the surface of her gritted teeth.

_Someone please tell me I heard him wrong...!_ she thought, squinting in desperation.

"Ah?" The stubborn set of his eyes didn't waver at all. "I said it clearly the first time," he said, not understanding the sudden screwed expression that twisted her face. Indigestion? "Kiss me."

**_Someone please tell me I heard him_ _wrong_...!**

But her frantic plea remained unanswered and Amu glared down at the source of her unfortunate situation.

There, with the bandaged finger pressed so clearly against her own skin, rested Amu's tiny wrist in the encirclement of Ikuto's hold. It was beyond pointless to tear herself free from him; seconds of previous flailing had only earned her another inch closer to the conniving cat.

And they had been already close to begin with.

Though grim displeasure remained patent on her face Amu could feel the unmistakable and increasing shift in weight as she continued to balance on the balls of her feet, desperately clinging to any possible means to keep her equilibrium and not fall to an ungainly heap against Ikuto.

Always wary to keep a sharp mind around Ikuto, Amu nearly beat herself upside the head, wondering under what circumstances had she ben allowed capture by this insolent seventeen year old?

It had all started with a question.

"Amu, will you do something for me?"

One simple, harmless sounding question which for someone reason had piqued her curiosity enough to derail Amu from her current activity and stand before the foot of the bed, which, at the moment in time, had been commandeered by Ikuto's tightly balled body.

At the arrival of her approach this said body had decided to unfurl itself from its compacted position and stretch its limbs with such litheness and flexibility that Amu had found her mouth go dry at the sight. Briefly the image had reminded her of the patterns of a flower, closing and opening to the appropriate hours of the sun until his arms had stilled comfortably above his bed-tossed head, his legs re-rooted to the paneled floor. Despite the grand awkwardness the position would have caused both the beholder and doer, half his body on the bed while from the waist down his knees remained bent, Ikuto had managed to make it appear completely and utterly natural ( and, with wide success, reminded Amu once more just how flat his stomach really was).

With Amu mystified by the spectacle Ikuto had encountered little, if any, resistance from her when, after a moments pause, he had sat up from his position and reached for her. Amu, meanwhile, had just finished wondering if Ikuto's pride would have been insulted by her previous girlish imagery before being tugged bodily by a firm grip, a chaste white smile erasing any further thought.

Thus the flailing had ensued before quickly deescalating into a sound but stubborn defeat, which was where they had been remaining up until this point.

"Amu." Ikuto tried again, frowning now and not understanding her refusal. "Come on. It won't hurt. In fact most people have come to enjoy it." He could feel the small bones of her wrist grate gently together as he gave her an insistent tug. "And it's only one!"

She started abruptly and turned to look at him, incredulous. One? Just one? Already unhappy with how close he held her, which added to her rising discomfort, his words stirred unexpected anger to her cheeks. She'd never pressed her lips in the semblance of affection to anyone other than to the occasional upturned cheeks of her family. With only the briefest of kisses, they had represented nothing more than the warmth and lasting kinship she held with her Papa, Mama and Ami.

Considering anyone else to share this act of endearment transcended the emotions she held for her family.

Fickle as it might have made her seen, this was her first kiss! No second chances were given - once it was taken by another (or stolen as it was quickly turning out to be), the authenticity and value of it all would be lost. An irreversible process. It was a rather sensitive topic and she had no intention of wasting it on an alley cat's self gain, whose matters appeared, at best, frivolous and surface level.

Recognizing the pettiness behind Ikuto's intentions, Amu experienced a sudden surge of emotion.

"I won't!" she refused, twisting her head to the side and keeping her mouth as far out of sight as possible. "Where in the world do these ideas of yours come from!" From somewhere inside her little body Amu felt an unbelievable amount of anger rope through her, surfacing from the very pinpoint of contact and branching to her outer extremities. Unadulterated anger and confusion: a result of Ikuto's insensitivity.

Yet what effected her more than anything was the rush of almost overwhelming disappointment. How could he be so shallow?

Screened from her thoughts Ikuto became taken aback, unprepared for Amu's sudden defensive nature. He honestly couldn't see what had antagonized the situation into such dramatics. "I'm sure kids younger than you have experienced it already!"

That did it. "_Ikuto_!" His words had never felt so insulting. Jerking her free hand in the air, she raised it above both their heads, her fingers trembling. "_Don't you dare try and kiss me_!"

As she let her hand fly downward, Ikuto's eyes, which had contained only pure and an unfeigned sense of loss, grew large in sudden clarity. _That? It was that?_ he thought in absolute disbelief and within the split seconds before her hand reached him, Ikuto took in the array of emotions sweeping her face with sharp acuity. There, where he picked out the pained downturn in her lips, her teeth slightly clenched as if against some internal hurt, and there, where the overly bright look in her eyes scarred her usually pretty gaze, he could see the fragility of her broken state.

He understood it all within the blink of an eye.

The blow, which would have guaranteed more than just physical damage on both parties and severed an already haphazard relationship, was halted immediately by Ikuto, stilling her wrist with a free hand. Though his grip was firm, it was not unkind. "I guess I wasn't clear enough," Ikuto mumbled, static.

"Kissing," he began in a slow and patient voice as he watched her gaze freeze in absolute alarm, "is not strictly reserved for the lips, Amu." Confusion filled her expression, the adrenalin still running in wild abandon through her system, and Ikuto, met only with the rushed intake of breath from his companion, continued on with the vague interruption. He sounded inexplicably calm as he lifted up, not the hand that would have struck him across the face, but her other, where his long fingers still mindlessly grasped Amu's wrist.

"Aren't you," he said, bringing her captured wrist upward and then twisting it so her palm faced himself; her wrist looked extremely tiny against his own, "supposed to kiss a wound after an injury?"

Amu went very, very still then.

* * *

**A/N :** I'm extremely pleased with this chapter. Initially this wasn't meant to hold such dramatics - obviously we know what Ikuto and Amus' relationship consists of: a bit of flitting around with little bits of romance thrown in every now and then - but I personally enjoyed writing some of the vulnerability behind Amu. This chapter in particular I had to really pay attention to their original personas', and it was - haha - well, it was a challenge, and I hope I didn't stray too far (although Ikuto might have acted little too aloof than necessary).

The other chapters will be lacking any further seriousness - at least, that's what's planned. I usually write and then rewrite chapters three or four times, minimum. But the next installment will include Amu's response to this situation and the reveal of Ikuto's other request!


	9. Chapter 9

9. The Past

Almost tenderly, the bangs were shifted from her eyes as long tapered fingers – violinist fingers – swept them aside in an absent minded gesture. Amu heard the bed creak and suddenly all she could see was Ikuto, his face emotionless and still in its entire stoic beauty. The only thing that stirred was the light behind his eyes, seeming to sway and bend to an emotion privy only to him.

"What am I to do against such a vulnerable expression?" he wondered in a soft voice. She was half a fraction behind to denote the suggestive, lilting undertone as a halfhearted attempt to make light of the situation, and by the time she blinked into full awareness, Ikuto was already receding back, his face masked into cool reserve, eyes contained in their mysterious beauty.

She expected him to carry the rest of their companionship in mutual silence, allowing her time to reflect on the fool hardy decision she'd almost carried out in rash judgment, when he spoke, surprising her. His tone was soft and coaxing for the ear to listen to, despite his previous withdrawal that had spoken of nothing but seclusion from Amu. She found herself leaning in, unconscious.

"I'm at fault for many things with you, Amu," Ikuto murmured, his words spilling in light, warm sheets against her parted mouth, "and for that I take complete responsibility, but," he took her chin in a gentle grasp, his thumb resting below her bottom lip, "I will never take this," Ikuto's thumb tapped her where it was, tenderly and with meaning, "without consent."

He released her then, and as Amu felt his fingertips withdraw it seemed like he'd taken a part of her with him. Never before had she heard him speak with such intimacy and the authenticity behind his promise shattered any remaining bitterness and remorse inside her.

Unthinking, she gripped his bandaged hand with both of her own, drawing an expression of puzzlement from Ikuto that soon settled into mild mannered wonder.

"Why?" she asked, displaying his hand before him, now only raw curiosity filling her expression as she crooked the injured finger in his direction. "Why this? Why pursue something so simple?"

For a moment, he remained unresponsive as Ikuto merely gazed at her in silent, rapt fascination. Although hot headed and impetuous in most cases, there were times where Amu's actions sometimes belied her age. Fierce determination and open honesty were traits of hers that Ikuto admired in secrecy when she displayed them to the public, and whether she was aware of the weight of her own words or not, Amu's continual success to move people drew Ikuto closer and closer to her.

Like the continual ebb and flow of the tides in response to the moon, Ikuto found himself gravitated to Amu.

Forever caught.

It was because of this and the bright clarity within her golden soaked orbs that Ikuto responded.

"Because of its innocence," Ikuto replied, slipping his hand from hers quietly. Something close to sincerity entered his face then, warming his expression into such a look of compassion that Amu's throat tightened. "I never received it as a child because of my early desertion of the Hotori household. By the time I was enlisted under Easter, I was beyond the age that such childish wants were allowed, and all trailing ideas of sympathy and kindness were spared from me."

"Utau…" Amu tried helplessly.

Ikuto shot her a wry grin, a ghost of his usual self. "Unadulterated, sibling infatuation."

At her crestfallen expression Ikuto rested the weight of one hand atop her head, patting Amu. "I was about nine," he began, meaning to dispel Amu from the idea of his depleted childhood, "waiting at a park bench for that old man Tsukasa to return from an errand, when I heard a child crying."

Distracted, Amu tried to imagine a younger Ikuto, arms uncrossing from their impatient hold as he looked up in wonder at the sound. Eyes large and bright in his –

"Cheeky little brat," Ikuto cut through flatly, and any uplifting idea of an innocent Ikuto were blown to smithereens as Amu's hopeful smile gave away to a fit of muscle spasms, a chocked sound of disbelief escaping. Ikuto continued, oblivious. "Apparently, he'd decided it clever to skirt across the cement after a heavy snowfall, where the ice had gathered in thick sheets the previous nights. The boy fell, fell right on his face." Ikuto added to the dramatics by smacking the flat of his hand on his thigh to imitate the boy's impact. "He made such an unnecessary racket afterwards, loud and unrelenting that it made everyone within a twenty meter parameter scrambling to other sections of the park. I nearly hopped off my perch, meaning to give an earful in response to his incessant howling. Then his mother arrived." He paused to consider his next words, eyes locked on his bandaged finger in concentration as he tried to sum up his feelings.

"It was odd to see how a grown woman could look so vulnerable and open as I watched her bend to one knee and then the other to examine her child's injury. He'd escaped only with a bruise to his upper brow and yet she had treated it with the utmost importance, her fingers tender as they examined the swelling, her voice reassuring. Each motion was thorough and filled with a kindness that I'd never experienced myself that I found myself unable to look away. Drawn, I watched until the child's cries were reduced to mere sniffles, and as a final gesture to seal away his fears, she kissed him," Ikuto touched his own brow, the skin flawless and smooth, "here."

Unaware of the trembling that had begun in his fingers Ikuto's eyes faded into reminiscence. During his endless hours of isolation, no matter how many times he had replayed that memory in his head, Ikuto still could not understand how such a simple act of kindness had rendered him into silence.

Unabating love and a ceaseless desire to protect her child's safety had surely been a touching factor on his heart as he'd witnessed the raw, instilled nature of a mother with her offspring, but it had also represented what he'd never received as an adolescent. Already looked down upon by his nameless father's decision to leave the family, kindness and warmth had been further stripped from him the day he had inherited the title "the black cat of misfortune". Instead of being nurtured into adulthood by a mother that should have existed in his life, duty and bitter obedience to his step father had marked the passage of time, sculpting Ikuto from the cold hands of merciless discipline and neglect.

Sweet, enduring kindness would always appear too far.

"Amu, I…Amu!" Ikuto's eyes burst into a vivid array of blues and deep violets as they shot down at Amu, nearly yanking his hand from her in surprise. But she held him fast, lips lingering just a moment longer against his bandaged finger. The impression of her mouth burned fresh against his skin, leaving a lasting memory on his mind as Ikuto watched her with stricken eyes.

"For you," she murmured, pulling away. "For your childhood."

Open honesty.

He favored her with a rare smile then, and deciding it was time to request his second wish, he tilted his face forward, eyes kindling with unabashed warmth that made her step back in hesitation.

Ikuto stopped her, catching her by the elbow – a section of the body he'd once seen a boy treated with unwavering tenderness. Forcing himself to ignore the temptation to do the same, Ikuto tugged Amu toward him, near enough to whisper in her ear.

"May I take something of yours?"

* * *

**A/N : **Instead of explaining my long gone absence from Fanfiction with reasons that will soon change and be meaningless to future readers, please visit my profile from now on. Updates won't be any faster but I'll do what I can. Endless apologies to those who have remained faithful to this story; truly, I appreciate the support. c:


	10. Chapter 10

10. Miniature Complications

Yoru was on the brink of cracking as he dug his paws into his dark curls and clawed at them, beyond vexed. Taking significant pride in his feline characteristics, the mini chara was tempted to rip the pair of prized cat ears from atop his head in hopes of gaining if even a moment of silence.

His persecutor's voice cracked across the open sky behind him. "Yoru!"

And with it followed the other two minions. "Yoru, stop – desu~!" "Yeah, are you trying to avoid us?"

That idea sounded quite tempting as Yoru caught a passing breeze, carrying him above skyline and away from the group. Eventually, frowning with as much exasperation that equaled his master, he turned reluctantly to stare at the three candy colored charas.

"Rin, Miku, Shu," he called behind him, his mood lightening slightly by their sound of protest, and continued on before they could hackle him further, "Can't you three fly faster? We've been out here for over an hour."

Ran was the first to recover from the mild insult, mistaking the look of indignation for only apt determination. In her optimistic eyes she only saw enthusiasm radiating from Yoru. She shook a pom-pom in the air, carrying enough energy in that one movement for the entire group. "Yes! We should hurry!"

More athletically challenged than the other three, Sue struggled after the group, heaving heavily pained 'desus' and wishing for the comforts of her tiny kitchen housed safely within her shell. She turned to Miki open mouthed and distressed at Ran's exclamation, her cap tipped completely to one side. "Wha – What is it we're looking for again – desu?"

Miki glanced sidelong at her physically spent sister and whipped out her sketch book, reaching out to realign Sue's hat. "Here," she said promptly, revealing the hastily drawn outline that was still less than perfect from the real item.

Lined in signature charcoal was the design of a simple cross, the same height of any of the charas from head to toe. The only thing it lacked was its polished silver coating that would have made it gleam brilliantly in the summer shine.

Squinting, Sue took in the image before sighing her disappointment. She did not doubt the tiny artist's ability to capture an image with flawless precision and it was because of this fact that confirmed Sue's fears: despite covering a three mile radius, the cross had remained perfectly elusive. Realizing the futility of their search thus far, Sue's head bent in utter defeat and she lifted a small hand to the back of Miki's shirt, seeking some means of comfort as they carried on.

"Why couldn't we have been charged with finding a cupcake instead – desu?" Sue complained quietly.

"Or some kind of sculpture," Miki agreed, to which Sue nodded her head vigorously, sending light green curls whipping in curt agreement. Up ahead, Yoru was flipped on his back, sunny side up, basking in the warm sun rays and having momentarily given up on their search. To their surprise he added to their list of complaints.

"A ball of yarn. Maybe something shiny…"

There was shuddering in a nearby bush as Ran's head poked out beneath the foliage, ignoring the leaf plastered in her hair. "Ikuto was the one who dragged us into this mess, Yoru! If he hadn't arrived than this would have never happened!"

Appalled by the unexpected barb, Yoru dropped from the sky, alighting before Ran with both paws on his hips. "Ikuto?" he squeaked in disbelief as Ran dusted herself free. "We were just coming to visit with good intentions" – 'Lie,' all three girls thought in unison – "when Amu overreacted!"

"Amu was not overreacting!" That was a lie too. "She was only trying to defend herself from that _cat_!" Ran stabbed her point home by throwing a pom-pom in Yoru's face, chocking him for a second.

Yoru grunted in surprise, irked by the gesture, and acting on instincts he swiped at the decoration with newly sharpened claws. It was an effortless movement as he watched it fillet beneath him, the pink ball exploding into countless strands. Like a switch all further protests from both parties was halted immediately as they watched what was left of Ran's pom-pom flutter to the ground in utter silence.

Neither moved…and it was then that Yoru realized the gravity of his mistake.

Slowly, with the greatest of caution possible, Yoru peeked underneath his dark lashes to look at Ran. He recoiled instantly, the level of malice escaping her pink orbs so high that he nearly felt one of his nine lives ripped away. And if he didn't do something now, the other eight would be in jeopardy as well.

Inhaling, Yoru knew this would be the most courageous moment of his life. Or the stupidest.

"Ran," he began but that was as far as he got as she suddenly bowled into him, knocking out two of his lives.

Ran was in complete outrage as she tackled him in the sky, sending them both kamikazing out of control in the open air as she thwacked him with as much fervor as possible with her remaining pom-pom. A ball of unstoppable energy though she had, Ran was absolutely incapable of proving much damage with her choice of 'weapon', rendering her harmless, but it did not discourage her from pummeling him with as much force as possible as they whizzed about the area.

Forgetting his act of chivalry, Yoru shouted at her lunatic behavior, trying to explain that she could just conjure up another one if she wished but Ran ignored him (and the fact that he was completely right) as she streaked after him with vengeful spirit.

From above, the remaining sisters were in two different states of helplessness. Miki, finding herself torn between loyalties, watched the chase in distress. Her sister, or the chara who had stolen her heart with his quick knave and feline charm? She glanced at Sue for help but found the cook distracted by something else, her head tipped to the side, the green clover winking.

"What happened again?" Miki heard Sue murmur thoughtfully to herself as she tried to recall the events prior to now, and Miki turned away in dismay, heaving a sigh. With resignation and knowing that Amu would later be dumbfound at Miki's aid for the enemy, Miki tightened her cap against her brow, pocketed her sketch pad, and zoomed down to help her sister, joining the fray.

It was at that exact moment that Sue popped up her head, a smile of absolute delight on her face as she remembered what had occurred before hand. "That's right!" And then remembering the present, Sue swept after the noisy squabble, not completely sure what she would do to Yoru when he was caught. ...Put icing on his nose? Oh yes, that would be quite the revenge!

As Sue congratulated herself for thinking of such a malignant punishment she left behind the memories she'd conjured up seconds ago.

_Having just seen her parents and younger sister off to the festival, Amu threw herself onto her bed in an unfashionable slump and took in the sudden silence of her house. She reminded herself halfheartedly of the mountain of dishes that needed to be done below and rolled onto her side, half closing her eyes as she did so, when she felt an unexpected pinch in her side. Exclaiming loud enough that it drew her charas from their eggs, she fished inside her pocket and pulled out the small cross she had ran across earlier on her way back from the grocery. _

_Rubbing its surface until it gleamed, Amu found herself reflected in the silver planes. She turned it slightly, distorting the picture of the girl that stared back at her. The image made her laugh at the silliness and she continued to twist it at different angles, when she was halted by a small sound. She sat up, kicking her legs forward so the momentum pulled her into a sitting position, and listened. Off to the side her charas took up the habit and sat around the cross, making faces and giggling at their comically warped reflections. _

_Amu let them be to strain her ears. There it was again, a light 'plinking' as if something was tapping against glass. _

_She looked for possible sources and found her windows bare of anything but sunlight and fresh air, and then turned to her sliding door, the curtains drawn in front of it. As if realizing its presence had been noted, the tapping increased enthusiastically, and Amu hopped to the floor to pull back the covers._

_A cry of surprise escaped her as she jumped away, acting as if the curtain revealed something only of her nightmares. _

_Flirtatious, cat like nightmares – which he was as Ikuto perched comfortably on the dais, one leg drawn up to his chest as he continued to flick pebbles at the glass surface. _

_His teeth shown against the smooth planes of his face, grinning. 'Open the door,' he mouthed outside, shuffling the projectiles soundlessly in his palm. _

_Immediately, she threw her hands up to her face in an abrupt 'X', wildly shaking her head. The lock was thrown down and she'd put a bat in the space behind the door when Ikuto had made it obvious that visiting her back door was a favorite hobby. No! She refused to let him in this time!_

_But like always Ikuto slithered his way around her protest and, expecting this response, he arranged another pebble on the flat of his perfect nail and sent it flying with more force than the previous ones. The sound was sharp as it collided against the glass, Amu wincing instinctively, and when she looked up disbelief etched her face as she saw the newly branded crack in her glass. _

_As he prepped another pebble for launch Amu shot to her feet, gasping, and dashed to the door. Satisfied, Ikuto dumped the remaining pebbles and stepped down, gliding to the entrance and leaning his forehead against the glass just above Amu's head. He mouthed something in silence to her on the other end and Amu found it distracting to have his breath fog against the glass, realizing her cheek was just protected by the door. _

_Noting the spots of color starting to form on her face Ikuto lowered himself, adjusting his height so they were face to face. He continued to speak, exhaling the perfect amount of CO2 that it all but covered his eyes that continued to watch Amu. Embarrassed by the gaze Amu's hands went into a blur, the bells at her wrist sent into a crazy jingle of motion as she threw the bat to the corner of her room and flung up the lock. _

_She stabbed a finger at him as he slipped inside, Yoru at his shoulder. "If Papa finds that damage…!" she began threateningly but Ikuto caught the accusing finger and pushed it to the side, unconcerned. _

_"I aimed in a discrete corner. You can hardly see it," he replied, and from their vantage point, no matter how hard she tried, she saw he was right, and abruptly shut her mouth. "Plus, if I have to pay for it, I can formally introduce myself to your parents." The extra comment tightened Amu's lips further and she stalked away from him, retreating to her desk. Naturally he followed after. _

_As the two began their customary banter, Yoru noticed the charm surrounded by Ran, Miki, and Sue and floated over. He recognized it within an instant and rapped a knuckle against it with a litany of excited 'nyas' following. _

_"Ikuto – nya~! Say, Ikuto, look at this!" He tried to swipe it from beneath the girls but as one they picked it up and flew over to Amu, who turned in surprise, distracted from Ikuto. _

_"That belongs to Ikuto!" Yoru announced devotedly, walking onto Ikuto's outstretched hand and shimming up to the crest of his shoulder. "He lost it a few days ago by the school!"_

_"Amu found it earlier today– it's hers!" Ran defended and Miki shook her head in agreement. "It fits her style anyhow!"_

_The charas immersed in the intense squabbling, Amu looked over at Ikuto with questioning eyes and lifted the cross to show him. With his chin resting lazily against one fist, Ikuto glanced over in response from the other side of the room, holding Yoru by the tail. _

_His eyes widened only slightly at the object, indigo orbs brightening with familiarity, but he remained unresponsive and lifted his attention instead toward the pile of trinkets scattered across her desk. He began to reach for one. _

_Spotting which one his fingers were about to wrap around, Amu exclaimed in shock, catching Ikuto's attention and halting him when he was halfway to the item. He threw his own look of wonderment at her. "What?" __From where he was it looked like any favorable charm that she would have plucked from the shelf but just out of sight, located right in the shadow, was the small engraving of a crown._

_Of all the trinkets to seek Ikuto's choice was unknowingly bound for the one Tadase had bought Amu before vacation. The carving had been personally requested by Tadase as he'd paid for it at the front desk.  
_

_Sent into a vortex of sticky-sweet bliss from the gift, Amu had felt obliged to express her gratitude when Tadase had turned to her and dealt the killing blow._

_"From your prince," he'd explained shyly while batting his large, ruby doe eyes, and it had sent Amu reeling with incapacitating joy so overt that the store clerk had been left wondering of the brief manifestation of hearts as they'd rained down on him.  
_

_That entire dream would shatter if Ikuto found out. "Don't touch that! Ikuto!" she cried in absolute horror and acting out of sheer panic, she wound back her arm and catapulted the cross with enough speed to break the sound barrier. "**Take this**!"_

_Ikuto merely blinked at the fired missile as it raged toward him. One second he was in danger of being impaled, the next it was flying past him. Ikuto was genuinely surprised she'd had enough skill to display such accuracy – Amu's throws had been atrocious in previous occasions, struggling to get even ten feet from her. _

_He smiled. He must have really done it this time._

_Meanwhile, as they'd watch the cross wink from existence, all four charas had felt a burning sense of loyalty spear through their chest and wanting to prove their worth, they'd rushed out the window in a flurry. With the chase ensued the charas had abandoned their masters for the day, leaving them to deal with their own half hazard relationship. _

Unfortunately for Yoru, he hadn't imagined that the search would ever turn into a fight for survival as the chara finally managed to slip away from the group, diving headlong into a tree.

The wood bit mercilessly into his back as Yoru scrambled up against the side of a branch, ears straining for any sign of the girls. Any loud movement would mean utter annihilation for he and his six remaining lives, trying desperately not to hyperventilate as he fought to calm his breathing.

Of them all to antagonize it had to be the one with unbeatable stamina. As much as he found her cheering irritating, Yoru would have rather been subjected to hours of prattle and pom-pom waving from Ran than the chase she was giving him now.

He started to levitate upward, intending to search for them, but a pointed edge prevented him, knocking him square on the skull. He rubbed his head, an expression of annoyance beginning, when he saw what it was and his heart nearly stopped. Nestled just above him in the loose bramble was the cross, propped against the trunk and winking invitingly at him.

Eyes shining Yoru started to untangle it from the leaves, careful not to stir his surroundings too much and lifted into the air with Ikuto's treasure tucked safely beneath his arm. There was no sign of the girls.

A peaceful flight back home. How nice…

"There he is!"

"And he has Amu's cross too!"

"That means we're done searching – desu!"

Miles from Amu's home Yoru turned tail. Ikuto was going to owe him the finest tuna after this.

And it better be a big one.


End file.
